


In the Darkness

by William_Magnus



Category: Werewolf: The Apocalypse, World of Darkness (Games)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:17:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/William_Magnus/pseuds/William_Magnus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bronx, known also as Tears Through Bronze, is a character I play in a tabletop game and I did this little bit of ficiton as a character study for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Darkness

Night had come, and darkness had fallen on the Blue Moon Manor. The old mansion built before the turn of the century creaked, and in places where the restoration had only begun the wind still blew through the halls like a blade of ice slicing through exposed flesh.

He would never tell the others, but Tears Through Bronze loved this time of night more than any other. They were his. His friends, his people, his family…his Pack. They accepted him when no others would despite his existence being a crime against the litany. They choose him to lead even though he was the least of all for them. They trusted him with their lives, and their honor. No, he would never tell them that his favorite time was when silence had fallen and they retired to their rooms leaving him the run of the mansion alone.

He slept rarely and only for short periods of time. It was a gift and a curse of his nature. The fates saw fit to bestow on him the mayfly curse of living only the life span of a wolf, but gave him twice the time in every day they gave others. In the darkness, alone, with the run of the great mansion his pack had taken back from spirits of darkness, and had claimed as their own he could be himself.

Whispers that Bring the Rain saw more than he ever said, Tears knew this. But he was born human, raised human, and never knew his birth right till his first transformation. The newest member of the pack, Jhal, who still had not earned a rited name, a real name to Tears way of thinking, was much like Whispers despite being born to a family that knew they were kin to the changing breeds. Swiftly Dancing Wind was born a wolf and though still often confused by human things knew the call of the Wyld in her heart since birth. 

Though Swift dance, as Tears through Bronze choose to call her, had heard the call of the Wyld and the thrill of the hunt since birth even she did not understand him. None of them did, or likely would for many years. They, his pack and family, were all pups. Young, and new to their nature and their people. Tears was a pup as well, but not new to his true nature, or his people. He had known what he was, and how he was seen since the day his eyes opened, and his first step taken.

One day, his pack would realize. They would see him for what he is. They would see the stain on his Tribe’s honor that was his birth, the sin that were his parent’s actions in creating him, and he would see that disgust in their eyes that he sees in all other werewolves. On that day his time as Alpha, and as friend would end. There would be a challenge, and he will submit. It is his nature, and his place.

He knows their people, and their ways in depths that the others will not for years. Despite his admitted slow wittedness he sees currents in Sept politics that they will still take years to understand because he was born in them where they others were not. He knew the litany before he knew the A B Cs. He listened to the old stories and true histories while the others watched Sesame street. 

He will lead them in their youth. He will protect his pack with his life till they mature and see the world for what it is. He will guide them till they are ready to make their marks. And when the time comes he will take his true place, omega. Lowest of the low, bottom of the pack, punching bad and supplicant to the others. That is where he belongs.

He loves this time of night because he does not have to pretend. He does not have to be a strong leader. He does not have to act as though he understands what it is like to be blind and deaf and ignorant of Gia’s call. He does not have to pretend to understand what it is like to be confused by human culture, and human nature. He does not have to pretend that he does not see that day looming when he will be seen by those that mean more to him than his life as the abomination he is. He does not have to hide that the future will break him, and that the shadow of that fate breaks him even now. And in the darkness he can close his eyes, and remember that day when they first opened, the only time he had ever seen his parents before they were driven from the Sept for their crime. Garou shall not breed with Garu.

His is the lot of a Metis, and sometimes in the dark when no eyes fall to him to point the way he believes that he may be able to bare it.


End file.
